<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>have you never seen a fire truck? by tonguetide</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250003">have you never seen a fire truck?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonguetide/pseuds/tonguetide'>tonguetide</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Mentions of a Car Crash, Muggle AU, Oneshot, Plot What Plot, Uni AU, jily, just lily being an airhead, no one was hurt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:08:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonguetide/pseuds/tonguetide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily hits James' car in the uni library. Never seeing him again would be too soon. One-shot Jily fluff.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter &amp; Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, James/Lily</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>have you never seen a fire truck?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This is a Uni AU one-shot that was supposed to be much shorter than it was. It didn't lengthen because of plot, though -- believe me, there's absolutely none. There ARE references to a car crash in case that bothers you. Nothing at ALL serious (no injuries or anything!), but I just wanted to mention it ahead of time. </p><p>Also, when there's a J or L on the screen there's no time skip -- just a perspective change. </p><p>Hope you like it:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>J</p><p>They can keep this a secret, right? Just between them?</p><p>He doesn’t want to tell his mates. Not a single person, but especially not <em> them </em>, because they would never let it go. </p><p>He tells them anyway because he needs to; he can’t keep secrets.</p><p>L</p><p>She doesn’t want to tell <em> anyone</em>. </p><p>She’s so embarrassed it hurts—physically—to think about. </p><p>But her puffy eyes and wet blouse give her away, and Mary calls Marlene back to their dorm immediately. </p><p>J</p><p>Peter gapes. Remus furrows his brows, worried. </p><p>Sirius laughs so hard that he drops his water glass.</p><p>It shatters on the floor.</p><p>“You <em> what? </em>” he barks, chortling obnoxiously. James hopes he falls into the glass. </p><p>L</p><p>“You <em> what</em>?” Marlene screeches.</p><p>Unbidden tears escape.</p><p>“I didn’t <em> mean </em> to,” she says unnecessarily, pathetically. Mary rushes to where she’s sitting on the bed. Lily leans in willingly to her embrace. “But—it,” she chokes on her tears, and then she’s sobbing. “It was <em> all my fault</em>.”</p><p>J</p><p>“It wasn’t her fault,” James defends, glaring at Sirius, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. </p><p>Sirius raises an amused eyebrow. “No? Her car hit yours on its own?”</p><p>James scowls. </p><p>Sirius barks with laughter. “This is bloody <em> golden</em>!” he exclaims. </p><p>“Is she alright?” Remus asks.</p><p>“Look at him. She’s fine. If she was hurt he would be going mental.”</p><p>Ignoring him, James turns to Remus. “I...I think so. She was crying,” he scratches the back of his neck and winces at the memory, “right before she left, but I think that was just because she was embarrassed?” </p><p>Remus nods. “That’s good.”</p><p>L</p><p>“That’s horrible,” Mary whispers soothingly. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Lily only sobs harder, burying her face into Mary’s neck. “He’s going to <em> hate </em>me,” she says, hiccupping each word. </p><p>“It’s impossible, lovey,” Mary says, stroking her hair. </p><p>“You—you should’ve seen his <em> face</em>,” she cries. “It was—so—so <em> awful</em>.”</p><p>“Was he angry with you?” Marlene snaps suddenly, defensively, whipping around to face them. “He has <em> no </em>right—”</p><p>“He <em> does </em> have a right,” Lily sobs. “He—he has ev—<em>every </em> right.”</p><p>“Was he, though?” Mary asks softly. “Angry?”</p><p>Lily shakes her head. Her lungs tremble with the strain of each word. “I di—didn’t talk to—him.”</p><p>J</p><p>“Did you—” Remus drags a weary hand down his face, sighs. “Did you talk to her?”</p><p>“A little,” James nods, then lowers his head. “It was more like shouting, actually.”</p><p>“Shouting?” Peter asks.</p><p>“James,” Remus admonishes, “you shouldn’t’ve—“</p><p>“<em>No </em>, no, not like angry shouting,” James says, frustrated. Sirius chuckles. Rising, James starts to pace the room. “She...she ran away when I walked over! What was I supposed to do? I didn’t know if she was hurt or—or if she was upset...and she was far away and so I just...well.”</p><p>“So, what, she just left?”</p><p>L</p><p>“I didn’t stay.” By now Lily had calmed a little. Slow, shaky breaths made their way in and out of her nose. “I was writing a note to put on his window because I hadn’t a clue what to—what to do.” Deep breath. “I’ve never been in an accident. And I was too shaken to notice it was his car, you know?” Another. “So when he walked up I realized it was his and I was so embarrassed and so I just…”</p><p>“Left?” </p><p>Lily looks down. </p><p>“And that’s when he shouted at you?”</p><p>She nods miserably. </p><p>“I’m gonna kill him,” Marlene growls and Lily’s horrified that she’s already moving towards the door. </p><p>“No!” she exclaims, rising so quickly from the bed that the world whirls. </p><p>“Careful, love,” Mary chides gently, grabbing her elbow to keep her from toppling over.</p><p>“Please, Marley,” Lily implores. Fresh tears drop down her face. “<em>Please </em> , I’m begging you, don’t...just...<em>don’t</em>—he did nothing wrong.”</p><p><em>"You</em> did nothing wrong; you were scared, he didn’t need to lecture you! I can’t believe—“</p><p>“He wasn’t lecturing, he—“</p><p>“He was shouting!”</p><p>”Well, he was yelling, but you would be too! You would’ve been angry.”</p><p>Marlene sighs but she reluctantly sits back down. “This is ridiculous.”</p><p>J</p><p>"This is <em> incredible</em>,” Sirius says. </p><p>“How are you still laughing?” James snaps. His patience is long gone. </p><p>Sirius starts to say something but Remus cuts him off. “You need to talk to her,” he decides sharply. “Call her. Or, actually, do you know which dorm she’s in?”</p><p>James’ features scrunch in annoyance. “I can’t—that’s not—”</p><p>“She’s here. In Gryffindor,” Sirius drawls. <em> Traitor</em>, James thinks, scowling at him. Sirius smirks. “He only talks about it every single day.”</p><p>Remus stands and throws a beige overcoat at James. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll go with you.”</p><p>“No, I—”</p><p>“I’ll come,” Sirius volunteers. Remus glares at him.</p><p>“You most certainly won’t.”</p><p>“I can’t go!” James cries. Peter hears him and gives a sympathetic grimace but he is otherwise ignored. </p><p>After picking up the overcoat from where he failed to catch it, Remus shoves it into his chest. “It’s cold. Don’t be a prat.”</p><p>“Remus,” James pleads, grabbing his mate by the shoulders, “you don’t get it, I <em> can’t </em>go.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“I can’t see her.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Because!” James exclaims. He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to make her upset. What if she thinks I want her to—to pay for it. We’re uni students; we don’t have any money!”</p><p>Sirius raises a finger. “<em>Actually</em>, you have—”</p><p>“—Or if she thinks I’m angry?”</p><p>“She already thinks you’re angry. You <em> yelled </em>at her,” Sirius says, eye roll audible.</p><p>“You’re all mental,” Peter mumbles. He is ignored.</p><p>Remus simply stares at James, one eyebrow raised. </p><p>James stares back but withers slightly. Remus is extremely intimidating. </p><p>After a moment, “Are you done?” Remus asks.</p><p>James opens his mouth.</p><p>“Good,” Remus says, taking the coat from James' arms. Ignoring James’ flailing protests, he shoves him towards the door. “Get your coat on or don’t, and freeze. We’re leaving.”</p><p>L</p><p>“We’re not leaving,” Mary says firmly. </p><p>By now Lily’s moved from crying to worrying: pacing and frantically running her hands through her hair. </p><p>“You really don’t have to,” she says absently. </p><p><em> James</em>. </p><p>She likes him so much. </p><p>“I like him so much,” she says. </p><p>Marlene rolls her eyes. “We <em> know</em>.” She perches next to Mary on the edge of Lily’s bed. </p><p>He’s going to hate her. </p><p>“He’s going to hate me,” she says.</p><p>“If he hates you he’s an idiot,” Mary says, eyes flickering back and forth to follow Lily’s movements. </p><p>“He won’t hate you,” Marlene snaps. “He’s not an idiot. He’s my cousin. How could anyone related to me be an idiot?”</p><p>Lily pauses for a moment, staring at Marlene. “He’s your fourth cousin thrice removed,” she says slowly. “That hardly qualifies as a relation.”</p><p>“Semantics.”</p><p>Lily shakes her head and resumes pacing. </p><p>She likes him <em> so </em>bloody much.</p><p>Thinks she <em> loves </em>him, actually, though she’s never admitted it to anyone. </p><p>She thought he liked her, too. </p><p>Now?</p><p>She doesn’t know what to think. </p><p>“Do you think he hates me?” she asks. But then a more terrifying thought strikes. Stilling, her hands jump to her cheeks. She can’t believe she didn’t think of it before; whatever answers the girls give go ignored.</p><p>What if she has to pay for it <em>now</em>?</p><p>She’ll offer for later, of course, when she’s saved up enough. Even if they weren’t friends she would do that. But she barely has enough for herself right now.</p><p>He wouldn’t make her, would he? He would give her time? He knows she has no money.</p><p>She should have more faith in him. He’s an amazing person. She likes him <em> so </em>much.</p><p>“He won’t make me pay now, right?” she asks anyway, stomach clenching. “He’ll give me time?”</p><p>“Oh, shove it Lil! Of course he wouldn’t—”</p><p>“<em>No</em>, Lily, are you mad? Have you <em> seen </em> the way that he looks at you? Did you lose your mind in the crash?”</p><p>J</p><p>“Have you lost your <em> mind</em>?” Remus demands. “It’s four degrees outside!”</p><p>“That’s 40 degrees in America.”</p><p>Remus snorts. “Not how that works.”</p><p>“I’m sweating,” James says. “I’m not cold.”</p><p>“You lost your mind and you weren’t even in the car.”</p><p>He ignores Remus.</p><p>The Gryffindor girls’ dorm isn’t a five minute walk from the boys’, but James wishes it was longer. It doesn’t help that the cold speeds Remus’ pace. Before he knows it they’ve crossed the Common and swung open the door to the building. </p><p>It’s a cozy place, the girls’ dorm. Much tidier than the boys’. </p><p>He doesn’t notice. </p><p>Grumbling, James is dragged to the third floor where the third year girls reside. </p><p>He likes her <em> so </em> much.</p><p>He thinks he loves her, actually. </p><p>Which some may call ridiculous since he decided he loved her the first moment he saw her, but what do their opinions matter anyway? He doesn't care what they think. </p><p>What Sirius thinks.</p><p>He's known her for a year and a half now. That's plenty of time.</p><p>It's fine.</p><p>No matter what Sirius says.</p><p>“Are we even allowed to be up here?” he demands.</p><p>Remus pins him with a glare. “Since when have you followed the rules?”</p><p>L</p><p>“Since when have I followed the rules?” Marlene demands. </p><p>“We’re not going to their dorm,” Mary says flatly. “We’ll tell them to meet us in the Common. Or in the Great Hall.”</p><p>Marlene’s upper lip curls. “Fine. Cowards.” Mary rolls her eyes. </p><p>All Lily processes of this exchange is that they want her to see him. Frantically, she shakes her head. “I thought we already covered this. Please, I <em> can’t</em>. I can’t see him. Not—not yet. You don’t understand.”</p><p>Marlene raises a dry eyebrow. “Believe me, I understand. And I’m not gonna yell at him,” she says, “so you’re coming with me.”</p><p>“No!” Lily shouts. She runs across the room, as far from the door as humanly possible. “You can’t!”</p><p>Mary laughs. “It’s a good idea, honey,” she says. Lily shakes her head so fast she thinks it might snap off. “You’ll sort everything out. What’s the worst that can happen?”</p><p>J</p><p>“What’s the worst that can happen?” Remus asks quietly.</p><p>James’ eyes bulge. </p><p>“The <em>worst</em>? She could—she could kill me, Remus! Or worse!”</p><p>Remus furrows his eyebrows. “What’s worse than death?”</p><p>James grabs onto the stair rail for—evidently—dear life. “Don’t make me!” he cries, disregarding their conversation entirely. “If you love me at all, you won’t make me go!”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Remus yanks James from his haven. “I don’t love you.”</p><p>L</p><p>“I hate you both,” Lily grumbles as they pull her towards the staircase. “This is a terrible idea.”</p><p>There’s traces of a smirk in Marlene’s voice. “You’ll be thanking us later, darling.”</p><p>“Don’t be smug, Marley,” Mary sighs. </p><p>“Not smug. Just right, as always.”</p><p>“Nothing’s happened yet!” Lily exclaims. “How can you be right?”</p><p>“Mary and I made a bet. A bet that I will <em> win</em>.”</p><p>Lily whirls on Mary, who smiles apologetically. “She wasn’t meant to tell you.”</p><p>“What’s the bet on? My chances of survival?”<br/>
<br/>
“Your love life, actually,” Marlene says, and now she’s definitely smirking.</p><p>“When did you make it?” Lily demands.</p><p>“Months ago,” Marlene says offhandedly. As if this isn’t the <em> end of the bloody world</em>. </p><p>“Marley,” Mary groans.</p><p>“Oh no,” Lily stammers as it all rushes back to her. “Oh no, no, no, no, he’s going to <em> hate </em> me—”</p><p>“Look what you’ve done, Marley!” Mary says as she grabs Lily’s wrist. “It’ll be alright, lovey.” </p><p>Her voice is comforting but the strength of her grip <em> really </em> makes Lily wonder who’s side she’s on.</p><p>Stupid bets. Stupid mates. Stupid mates <em> with </em>stupid bets. </p><p>Stupid universe. </p><p>Marlene just laughs and opens the door.</p><p>J</p><p>The door opens. </p><p>Like, <em> opens</em>.</p><p>He’s standing right there.<br/>
<br/>
It hits him, unsurprisingly, and he yelps. “Ow, bloody—” </p><p>But then he looks up.</p><p>Marlene is standing there, a fading smile on her lips. A quiet moment passes. Then pure elation floods her face. “Brilliant!” she shouts.</p><p>
  <em> Not brilliant not brilliant notbrilliant </em>
</p><p>Remus barks a laugh. “Ah, how convenient!” he echoes. He pushes James forwards.</p><p>“Oh no,” James mumbles, shaking his head. “Oh no, I’m not ready, I’m not—”</p><p>“Oh <em> Lily</em>,” Marlene sings, grinning wide now. She pulls Mary through the door who’s holding a protesting—</p><p>Lily.</p><p>His throat closes up.</p><p><em> Lily</em>.</p><p>She’s <em> beautiful</em>.</p><p>Her jade eyes are brighter than usual. His heart clenches when he sees traces of red around the rims, but otherwise she doesn’t look too upset. Her hair is pulled into a loose bun on the top of her head. Loose strands fall and frame her face. She’s dressed much smarter than he is—extra layers to protect from the cold—and suddenly he’s furious for not doing something with himself. He must look an absolute mess, and there she is, brilliant as always. </p><p>Brilliant, beautiful, and right in front of him.</p><p>L</p><p>He’s right in front of her and she wants to crawl into a hole.</p><p>Her first thought is how <em> fit </em> he looks in skinny black jeans and blue hoodie. His mop of hair is wilder than usual, probably a result of his stupid hands—stupid, <em> brilliant </em>hands—but his golden eyes are alert behind his specs. </p><p>She must look awful in comparison. Her hair’s a horrible disaster, not a perfect one like his; her clothes old and wet with tears. Her eyes are red and wide and shocked because—</p><p>Marlene.</p><p>She’s going to kill Marlene. </p><p>J</p><p>He’s going to kill Remus. </p><p>He whips his head towards Remus in a desperate search for a murder weapon—anything will work, really—and he’s settling on shoving him over the stair-rail when Marlene pushes her way through the door. “Remus,” she nods in fake-greeting, mirth poorly concealed. She pulls Mary along behind her. James’ eyes are back on Lily, now standing alone on the other side of the door. She’s looking anywhere but at him. “I’m hungry. Can you pay?” </p><p>“Y’know,” he responds, and James can hear the smirk in his voice, “I just happened to grab my wallet on the way out.” James turns to glare at him because he’s a <em> liar </em> and a bloody <em> awful </em> friend. James knows for a <em> fact </em>Peter has Remus’ wallet—he had picked up lunch using Remus’ extensive coupon collection. “Mary? Care to make it three?”</p><p>Mary rolls her eyes at their antics. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”</p><p>“You don’t,” Marlene says quickly, and starts to tug her down the stairs. </p><p>“Excellent,” Remus says, and James is helpless. </p><p>He’s a penguin in the desert. A giraffe in a suitcase. A pair of trainers in the sand that keep getting infiltrated by seashells and rocks and the glass of broken beer bottles no matter how tightly you lace them. </p><p>His thoughts sprint down this path without obstruction because it’s easier to think of sliding off a rainbow than of <em> her</em>.</p><p>She’s probably relaxed. She’s <em> always </em> relaxed. Relaxed and coherent and articulate and perfect. The complete opposite of him. </p><p>He wonders what she’s thinking. </p><p>L</p><p>She wonders what he’s thinking. </p><p>She wonders what he’s thinking because she <em> can’t think. </em>She can’t think anything. She can’t think of him, can’t look at him, can’t move a single muscle and she’s helpless when Remus says, ”Lovely to see you, Lily” and shoves James through the door. </p><p>J</p><p>James stumbles forward, the door slams, and the three worst people in the world laugh all the way down the stairs. He whips his head back to catch a glance of them through the door’s window but they’ve already disappeared. </p><p>He turns back to face her reluctantly. He can’t look at her. He won’t be able to think.</p><p>His face flushes. </p><p>L</p><p>Her face is so hot she thinks it’d melt the snow if she went outside. </p><p>James straightens, eyes wide, and scratches the back of his neck. His gaze stays somewhere over her shoulder.</p><p>Seconds pass in silence. It feels like years. </p><p>She opens her mouth to try and say something—<em>anything</em>—but Marlene is right. She did lose her mind. Not one rational thought flows in.</p><p>J</p><p>His previous stream of thought continues. </p><p>
  <em> A phone at 1% without a charger. A patch of pumpkins on a cloud. An elephant in quicksand. A deer in the head— </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A deer in the headlights.  </em>
</p><p>A deer. In the headlights. </p><p>“I hit a deer,” he blurts out. </p><p>She blinks. </p><p>L</p><p>She blinks again and can’t think of anything to say. <em> Again</em>. Because, apparently, her brain cannot be relied on under any critical circumstances. </p><p>“Not—not today, obviously,” he says, laughing a little. His face is bright red. He wrings his hands together at his chest and doesn’t look at her. “When I was 17.”</p><p>She starts to process what he’s said but then he runs a hand through his hair and her mind goes blank.</p><p>“With your hand?” she asks.</p><p>Now he blinks.</p><p>And she doesn’t blame him. Her face is probably <em> purple</em>. </p><p>She’s an idiot. A love-sick fool who can’t think of a single thing and <em> of course he didn’t hit a deer with his hand why did I say that I can’t believe I said that that’s such a stupid thing we were talking about cars of course he hit it with his car</em>—</p><p>J</p><p>“Er, no,” he falters. “With my car.”</p><p>Her face is scarlet, but he’s sure his is darker. When she blushes it’s just easier to see because it’s mirrored by her hair. He’s grateful, really, because he <em> loves </em> the color in her cheeks but he doesn’t want her to notice his. </p><p>After a moment, she asks, “Is that why they call you Prongs?”</p><p>He laughs a little. It sounds strained and strange in the silence. “No. Coincidence.”</p><p>It’s silent and he wrings his hands together. </p><p>L</p><p>It’s silent and she twists her fingers together.</p><p>She hates the silence.</p><p>She can’t think of anything to say.</p><p>“They called me that before,” he adds, spilling the words quickly and waving a hand like it explains everything he’s said.</p><p>It doesn’t, not really. She nods, but thinks, <em> before what</em>? </p><p>J</p><p>“Before I hit one, I mean,” he clarifies, jerking a shoulder up in a shrug, running a hand through his hair. Confusion had been obvious in her expression. “They called me Prongs before I hit one.”</p><p>Another pause.</p><p>He clears his throat, scratches the back of his neck.</p><p>Then, “Why?” she asks. </p><p>L</p><p>She asks to fill the silence but it seems he’s fine with no conversation because he says, “It’s a long story.”</p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>Quiet.</p><p>She flounders for words and finds none.</p><p>J</p><p>He stumbles over his words in his haste to salvage the conversation. It’ll fill the silence. He’d only said it was a long story because it really was. </p><p>But her eyes had dropped and she’d bit her lip and he knows she’d wanted to hear it, so,  “I mean,” he hurries to fix, “if you want to—I can tell it if you...” </p><p>“Sure,” she says.</p><p>He’s relieved, he thinks. No more silence.</p><p>L</p><p>She’s glad when his speaking fills the silence.</p><p>“So, er,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck, “one day in school—we were eleven, I think—Remus stayed home sick.”</p><p>He pauses after looking up and she doesn’t know if she’s supposed to respond? Or say something? But he’s looking at her with wide hazel eyes and suddenly she can’t remember what he’s said because they’re so sincere and there’s little golden flecks around the irises that she can make out in the tight hallway and she doesn’t know what he’s said—</p><p>But then, shaking his head sharply, he continues. She exhales in relief. “And...and on that day we were assigned a presentation about different office supplies—which is such a stupid project—but Sirius and I weren’t paying attention because there was this girl named Alice who liked this bloke named Frank and they sat right next to each other and it was fun to throw notes at them but—anyway,” he shakes his head as she fights a smile; he doesn’t see, he’s not looking at her, “Peter listened and he took that to mean we could learn it from a TV show because he’d only heard the word <em> office </em> and not <em> office supplies </em> , so he thought the teacher was using the show <em> The Office </em> as an example of a TV show we could use for our project. Have you seen <em> The Office </em>?” </p><p>J</p><p>What kind of question is <em> that</em>? Why did he ask it? It’s not relevant in the slightest to the story.</p><p>He wishes he could go outside and faceplant into the snow. Maybe it would cool his face down. Or faceplant anywhere, really. As long as it broke his jaw so that he could never speak again. </p><p>Into the cement. </p><p>Maybe over the stair-rail. </p><p>He has to <em> catch his breath</em>. That’s how much he’s spoken. </p><p>He’d been fine at the start—fine until he’d made the mistake of glancing at her. Then he’d completely lost his train of thought and stuttered for the next twenty seconds. And, apparently, his brain insisted that the only way to atone for the falter was to speak as quickly and verbosely as possible.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, she seems a little floored with the waves of information pouring from his mouth. “Only the UK version,” she answers warily.</p><p>He wonders if it’s possible to die from embarrassment.</p><p>“Oh,” he says, nodding thirteen too many times to be casual. “You should watch the US version, too. It’s funny.”</p><p>L</p><p>“I’ve heard it’s funny,” she says, confused by the sudden eagerness in his voice. “Is it better than ours?” </p><p>“Sirius thinks so.”</p><p>“That’s unpatriotic,” she says, unable to help herself, glad when he grins. She relaxes a little. </p><p>He doesn’t—well, she doesn’t want to jinx it (superstition is only relevant when she’s already anxious)—but he doesn’t seem angry? It’s probably taken her far too long to realize, but she wonders now if he isn’t at all. If he never was.</p><p>Saying she’s relieved is an understatement. </p><p>“What do you think?” she asks.</p><p>J</p><p><em>I think I love you</em>.</p><p>He’s glad he doesn’t say that.</p><p>Very glad, actually. </p><p>That would make everything awkward.</p><p>And worse. Much worse.</p><p>So why does he have to fight so hard not to let it slip? </p><p>He’s not angry, he wants to tell her. He’s not angry at all. Couldn’t be angry if he tried. </p><p>But he can’t bring it up right now. Not when her expression lightens with every passing second. Not when hints of a smile hide behind her blush and her eyes are bright and sparkling and—</p><p>He catches himself before he loses the conversation.</p><p>“Well I’m loyal to my country, first and foremost,” he says reasonably. “And I hate agreeing with Sirius. So I suppose I’ll have to go with the UK version.”</p><p>She still looks a little uncomfortable, like she can’t decide if he’s pitying her or actually wanting to converse. <em> As if </em> he wouldn’t drop everything, always, to talk to her. </p><p>But she doesn’t know that. </p><p>Thankfully.</p><p>That would make everything much worse. </p><p>But, despite her apparent discomfort, she laughs a little. It’s his favorite sound in the world and he’s so happy he’s drawn it out of her that he doesn’t even want to faceplant anymore. “Go on, then,” she says.</p><p>He’d tried so hard to not lose the conversation and lost it anyway. He knits his eyebrows. “What?”</p><p>L</p><p>She mirrors his confused expression. </p><p>That couldn’t have been it, surely? “With the story,” she says slowly, “That wasn’t the end, was it? That Peter had seen <em> The Office</em>?”</p><p>He flushes. “Oh, no, that’s not all.” She smiles. </p><p>J</p><p>She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. </p><p>He doesn’t focus on that because then he wouldn’t be able to speak, so, heat ever-rising, he shakes his head to clear it and continues, “Right, so, after school Sirius asked Peter what our project was on—I had football practice so I wasn’t there—and Peter was really into Anime at the time so, since he thought it was on TV shows like <em> The Office</em>, he said he was doing his on Anime. Sirius had never heard of Anime because his parents were—well, that’s another story—”</p><p>“I remember,” she says. </p><p>“Oh, yeah,” he says, pushing his hand through his hair. Of course she remembers, he’d told her some lighter details not a month ago when she was having issues with her sister. Goes to show how helpful his brain is. </p><p>He continues: “He didn’t know what Anime was but—you know Sirius—he didn’t want Peter to know something that he didn’t. So he just went with it and pretended to know what it was. And later, when I asked him what our presentation was on, he told me that we were doing our projects on our favorite <em> animals</em>—”</p><p>Lily snorts and he glances away from the wall in time to catch her fleeting smirk. His heart almost leaves his chest. “He got <em> animal </em> from <em> Anime</em>?” </p><p>James grins cautiously, wanting her good humor to last. “In his defense, Peter got <em> The Office </em> from <em> office supplies</em>.”</p><p>“That makes way more sense,” she laughs. He can see the tension leaving her posture.</p><p>L</p><p>His grin eases her stance a little further. </p><p>“Black’s an arrogant git,” she says fondly. </p><p>“I think he’d take that as a compliment.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “I’ve never complimented him in his life.”</p><p>“You’re the only bird on the planet who can say that.”</p><p>“That explains his ego. Still trying to figure out yours.”</p><p>“Oh, c’mon, Evans,” he says through a broader grin. This is better. Familiar. She can work with this. As he speaks he ticks off on his fingers, “If <em> you </em> were gifted, brilliant, athletic—”</p><p>“—spoiled, lucky—”</p><p>“—popular, <em> handsome </em>—”</p><p>J</p><p>“<em>Handsome</em>?” she parrots. She scrunches her nose and it makes his stomach jump. </p><p>She’s blushing, so, grinning broader, he pushes off the wall and steps towards her. “What’s wrong with <em> handsome</em>?” he teases, leaning forward to poke her shoulder.</p><p>“It’s a weird word,” she says, narrowed eyes following his movement. </p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>“It sounds old,” she explains. “Like a room was <em> handsomely </em>furnished.” </p><p>“That’s just because you’re a weird person,” he says, pointing at her, “who reads weird books with weird words like <em> handsome </em>in them.”</p><p>She raises her eyebrows. “Was it not you who gave me <em> Emma </em>for my birthday?”</p><p>“That’s beside the point,” he grumbles, because he reads Period Romances more than the average human probably should. He crosses his arms and bitterly mutters, “Besides, I’m not the one at fault here. I can’t believe you hadn’t read it before you were <em> 20 years old</em>. There’s no excuse for that.”</p><p>“I already told you, I read <em> Pride and Prejudice</em>, but—”</p><p>“That’s even worse!” he exclaims. “Reading one Austen and not immediately reading all of the others is—”</p><p>“I wanted to read Gaskell before—”</p><p>He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s smeared your record,” he insists. “You can never wipe it clean.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”</p><p>L</p><p>“You’re incorrigible,” he says, in the worst imitation of her voice that she’s ever heard. </p><p>She sighs in exasperation to hide her smile and changes the topic before she can do something foolish, like try to kiss his stupid, smirking, <em> handsome </em> mouth. “So you, Peter, and Black did your presentations on animals while everyone else did them on office supplies?”</p><p>“No,” he says, glaring abruptly at the memory. “Remus warned Peter so he didn’t do it.” He sulks and he’s so dramatic and she <em> loves </em>it. </p><p>Loves him, maybe. </p><p>They’ve known each other for a year and a half. That’s enough time, right? To love someone?</p><p>She thinks she’s loved him ever since she saw him, but that’s stupid and cheesy and too Hallmark-y, so she shoves it aggresively from her mind. </p><p>He opens his mouth to continue, then closes it. </p><p>She narrows her eyes. “Spit it out, Potter.”</p><p>He doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, he mumbles the admission, “Sirius talked his way out of it.”</p><p>She laughs sharply. “Talked his way out of it?”</p><p>James rolls his eyes, slumping back against the wall. </p><p>“Were your charms insufficient?” she jives. </p><p>His eyes widen in mock-offense. “How <em> dare </em> you assume I wasn’t equally—no, <em> more</em>—capable than Sirius at—”</p><p>“He’s just more attractive,” she says with a dainty shrug. “You’ll have to acknowledge it someday.”</p><p>“Take it back,” he groans. “My ego won’t survive it.”</p><p>J</p><p>“Your ego <em> demands </em> it, actually.” She purses her eyebrows in thought. “Unconsciously demands it, I suppose,” she amends, but then she meets his eyes and shrugs again. With serious, wide doe eyes that are much too unfair a tactic, she says, “It’s for the greater good, James.”</p><p>She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. </p><p>And, because he’s a soppy prat who can’t process anything when she looks at him like that, he says, “Promise?”</p><p>“Yep,” she says, popping the <em> p</em>. Laughter sparkles in her eyes and he never wants it to leave. “<em>My </em> greater good.”</p><p>"You selfish woman," he says, thinking, <em>you incredible woman</em>.</p><p>L</p><p>There’s something soft in his tone that makes her blush profusely. To hide it she smiles, rolls her eyes, and reverts to the least dangerous subject. “Why didn’t Remus warn you about the topic?” she asks.</p><p>James scowls. “Because he’s a vindictive git.”</p><p>She raises her eyebrows and is legitimately surprised. “Remus?” she asks, and her voice mirrors her expression. “But he’s so sweet.”</p><p>“Did you see him tonight?” James asks. “He shoved me through the door.”</p><p>“I shove you all the time.”</p><p>“He dragged me out of the dorm. <em> Without </em>a coat.”</p><p>“I’m almost certain he’d have suggested you wear one. You probably said no.”</p><p>“He left us stranded here to get food.”</p><p>“Is that such an issue?” she asks.</p><p>J</p><p>She raises an eyebrow. </p><p>“Don’t do that,” James mumbles, mostly to avoid the question. Yes it’s an issue: <em> he loves her</em>. No, it’s not an issue: <em> he loves her</em>. </p><p>“Do what?” she asks.</p><p>He waves a vague hand at her face. “That.”</p><p>“What?” she repeats, looking genuinely bewildered. </p><p>“Your eyebrow,” he says.</p><p>Her raised eyebrow drops and she blinks. Blinks again. Then she sputters a laugh. “Can you not raise yours?”</p><p>“I can raise both,” he grumbles. </p><p>“Yeah, everyone can raise both.” She grins. “Awh, Potter. You feel left out.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “Do not. I’ve almost got it, anyway, I—”</p><p>She laughs harder. “What, do you practice?”</p><p>His face flushes. “<em>No</em>,” he protests vehemently, but she’s already made up her mind. To keep from falling she leans back against the wall. Her laughter echoes in the empty hall and he loves the sound so much that it almost makes him smile. <em> Almost</em>. </p><p>But he frowns instead. “It’s not funny,” he mopes.</p><p>“Show me, then,” she says when she’s recovered some semblance of her voice. It still shakes with suppressed laughter. </p><p>He glares at her. </p><p>It makes the laughter boil over. He crosses his arms, slumps further against the wall, and keeps glaring. </p><p>“Are you done?” he asks at length. </p><p>She takes one look at him and laughs more. </p><p>L</p><p>She can’t stop laughing.</p><p>It was funny, <em> really </em> funny, actually—he <em> would </em> stand in front of a mirror and try to alter his genetic makeup—but mostly she laughs because the relief is so strong. He seems more upset about his stupid eyebrows than about his car.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she says eventually, wiping underneath her eye with the pad of her finger. A smile lingers on her face but she straightens it and looks at him. “It’s not funny.”</p><p>He narrows his eyes. “You’re right. It’s not."</p><p>“It’s a trial.”</p><p>“You’re right. It is.”</p><p>She nods seriously. “I can send you a WikiHow article. It will help you out.”</p><p>He flushes. </p><p>“Oh my—” she starts, then cuts off shortly, pursing her lips together so tightly that they’re white. “That’s not what you’ve used for research,” she says with no small amount of forced down laughter. <em> Of course </em> it’s what he’s used for research. She knows it is because his face is dark red and he won’t meet her eyes. “I’m telling Sirius,” she says.</p><p>J</p><p>He blanches. </p><p>“You <em> can’t,</em>” he says emphatically. “I would never speak to you again.” </p><p>She cackles with all the power of a blackmailing siren who couldn’t care less if his threat came true. </p><p>“So anyway,” he continues loudly, ignoring the heat in his face, speaking over her laughter, “Remus wanted to punish Sirius and me for not listening. So he corrected Peter on the topic but let us think it was on animals. Bloody helped us research and everything."</p><p>Her laughter trails off enough to grin and ask, “And you presented on a deer?"</p><p>“A stag.”</p><p>“So they called you Prongs.”</p><p>“Yeah. And Sirius got Padfoot for the dog presentation he didn’t have to give.”</p><p>“He <em> would </em>choose to present on a dog,” she snorts. </p><p>He smirks. “More of a cat person?”</p><p>“No contest,” she says, looking at him with amused eyes, though her laughter has finally stopped. “So did your teacher let you present?”</p><p>“Oh, she loved it,” he says, scowling at the memory. She’d laughed with his mother for weeks about it. “Gave me half marks but said she was impressed with my ‘passion’.”</p><p>“She didn’t call you Prongs too, did she?”</p><p>"No," he laughs, wondering if Minnie was even capable of using a nickname. "Always Mr. Potter."</p><p>“Ah,” she nods sagely. “There’s the root of your ego. You thought yourself a sophisticated eleven year old.”</p><p>“Did your professors never call you Ms. Evans?”</p><p>“I don’t have an inflated sense of self, so I don’t think it really matters.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “I came back down to Earth eventually,” he defends.</p><p>“Yeah? When?”</p><p>“When…” he hesitates, “well, probably when I hit the deer, to be honest.”</p><p>He’s not sure what antagonistic demon compelled him to say it but as soon as it’s left his mouth he regrets it. </p><p>Humor drains steadily from her features. He searches frantically for anything to say to bring it back, but she straightens to speak before he can. </p><p>L</p><p>She wants to get it over with. And he’s not angry, she doesn’t think, so it’ll be alright. </p><p>It’s going to be <em> fine</em>. </p><p>Her posture stiffens as she crosses her arms over her chest, forces her chin to raise, and looks him dead in the eye.</p><p>She’ll look him in the eye when she apologizes because she’s had too many apologies given her with false, won’t-meet-her-gaze sentiments and she’s not a coward. </p><p>It doesn’t hurt that she’s almost certain he’s going to say it’s alright. </p><p>“I’m so sorry, James,” she starts. “I feel so—”</p><p>J</p><p>He immediately cuts her off, smiling a little because she’s incredible and brave and sincere and he loves her. “Don’t apologize. Honestly,” he maintains at her skeptical expression. “It was an accident. They happen.”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t my <em> fault</em>,” she scoffs. “<em>I </em> was the one driving. Accidents happen because people are careless, and I was—”</p><p>“<em>Lily</em>,” he insists. “It’s completely fine. No damage done.”</p><p>L</p><p>“No damage done?” she parrots incredulously. “I don’t know what parking lot <em> you </em> were in but—”</p><p>He cringes a little. With appeasing hands raised he concedes, “Poorly phrased. No damage done between <em> us</em>. That’s what I meant.”</p><p>She looks at him flatly. “Poorly phrased is an understatement.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” he sulks. “I’ll buy a thesaurus.”</p><p>She wants to smile but she doesn’t. </p><p>J</p><p>She <em> almost </em> smiles. He can see it. But then she continues.</p><p>“It was all my fault,” she says, rushing to get the words out before he can dismiss them. “I wasn’t paying attention at all. I was looking at a fire truck, and I—”</p><p>He snorts. She blinks. “A fire truck?” he repeats. </p><p>She blushes. “<em>Yes</em>,” she spits.</p><p>“Have you never seen a fire truck before?” </p><p>She rolls her eyes. “Of course I have.”</p><p>“What made this one so interesting, then?” he laughs. </p><p>L</p><p>He’s <em> laughing</em>, so there’s no way he can possibly be mad, but she still wants to explain what’s happened. </p><p>Not that there is a good explanation. There isn’t. But she should be forced to endure humiliation as she attempts to explain that <em>yes</em>, she was in an empty parking lot at the uni library and <em>yes</em>, she got distracted by something she’s seen a million times and <em>yes</em>, she was only driving seven miles per hour and <em>yes</em>, she still managed to somehow total his car. </p><p>It’s what she deserves. </p><p>The Universe shouldn’t let her off the hook. It never has, Heaven knows—of all people in its wide expanses it made her hit <em> his </em> car—and there’s no logical reason it should start now. In fact, if there’s one thing she knows for certain it’s that The Universe <em> never lets people off the hook</em>. </p><p>So she has to play the part of The Universe and allow herself to be humiliated—thus ensuring no later consequence—since The Universe is, evidently, incapable of performing. </p><p>It’s because of James Potter. She knows it is. He and The Universe must have struck some sort of deal where she gets the short straw one minute and then the longest one the next. He likes to confuse her, James Potter does. Confuse her and annoy her and make her fall in love.</p><p>That last part is not at all applicable to the current situation and she can’t understand why she’s thought it. </p><p>She doesn’t respond to what he said because—in all honesty—she’s forgotten, so she puts her hands on her hips and says haughtily, “I can't remember what you said.”</p><p>J</p><p>“Short term memory loss?” he asks, laughing at her narrowed eyes and the fleeting expression of thoughtfulness that let him know she wasn’t paying attention. “Did you hit your head in the crash?”</p><p>“Marlene asked me that exact thing earlier,” she says pointedly. </p><p>“What are you suggesting?” he asks. “That it was a setup?”</p><p>She crosses her arms. “I’m not <em> suggesting </em> anything,” she says. “I’m <em> trying </em> to clear my conscience, but you’re being a prat who won’t listen.”</p><p>He can tell she really wants to apologize, no matter how unnecessary it is, and he’s also a sap who would listen to her speak all day, so he sighs. “Go ‘head.”</p><p>She seems momentarily surprised at the easy concession. She opens her mouth but then closes it sharply. “You won’t interrupt?” she demands. </p><p>L</p><p>“I won’t interrupt,” he promises. </p><p>Determined, she nods. </p><p>Right. She’s got this. </p><p>Onwards to a clearer conscience. </p><p>Then she almost laughs because the idea that her anxieties about apologizing come from any reason other than how much she likes him is absolutely ridiculous. She’d be sorry in any similar situation, of course, but it’d be much easier to articulate if it wasn’t <em> him</em>. </p><p>She meets his eye. “I’m sorry, James,” she repeats sincerely. The frown that lingers on his lips tells her that she’s being obstinate but she wants to make sure he understands. “I’d been studying and I was distracted and then there was a firetruck at the bakery and I was wondering what it was doing because I didn’t see flames—which is a good thing, actually,” she babbles, face flushing. He steps towards her. “And I looked at it and...well, I wasn’t on my phone or drunk or anything—which probably makes it worse—but then I…” She drops her gaze and feels him move toward her again. “Anyway, afterwards you came out and I’d been sitting there forever because I hadn’t a clue what to do and then I was—”</p><p>J</p><p>He kisses her.</p><p>He <em> has </em>to. </p><p>He doesn’t know why. </p><p>But he also does because it’s <em> her</em>. </p><p>Because she’s beautiful and perfect and she was speaking even faster than he had been earlier and because she only ever rambles when she’s nervous or afraid and she’s too stunning to ever be either of those things. <em> Especially </em> if he was the cause. </p><p>That’s plain unacceptable. </p><p>He couldn’t just stand around. </p><p>But he doesn’t even care to justify it. </p><p>He kisses her and it’s gentle and slow but not hesitant. His hands cup her cheeks and tilt her face up to his and her skin is exactly as soft as he’d imagined. Surprise makes her still at first—when she doesn’t move after a moment he’s afraid he’s overstepped. But then she, cautiously, winds her hands around his neck.</p><p>He’s smiling too big; he pulls back, resting his forehead on hers. “I interrupted you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright and fervent and looking up at him intently. “It was a welcome interruption,” she manages, voice a little breathless. </p><p>He grins. “Yeah?” </p><p>“Don’t get any ideas,” she says, eyes narrowing slightly. “If you ever interrupt me again, I’ll—”</p><p>He kisses her. </p><p>And, really, what else can he do?</p><p>L</p><p>Really, what else was she expecting? </p><p>He’s smiling against her lips and she thinks he’s the most annoying person she’s ever met. But, then, she’s smiling, too, so what does that say about her?</p><p>She rather likes this deal with The Universe.</p><p>They only slow when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Minutes have passed, but she hasn’t noticed. She smiles, pecks his lips, then pulls back. </p><p>James looks confused (and a little dazed, but that’s neither here nor there) until she takes out her phone, glances at the screen, and then shakes it between them. </p><p>“Marlene,” she says. Her eyes don’t leave him as she leans back against the wall, slides to answer the call, and says, “Hey.”</p><p>J</p><p>She’s smirking at him as she answers her phone. </p><p>He’s not sure how she’s so entirely suave when his mind is literally all exploding fireworks. If before he felt like a penguin in the desert he now feels like a penguin in a five-star tropical oasis resort in the desert. If before he felt like a giraffe in a suitcase, it’s now a 20 foot suitcase with drink holders and elevator music.</p><p>He can’t really process anything she says to Marlene because she’s looking at him like <em> that </em> with swollen lips and flushed cheeks but he can, thankfully, process the buzz of his own phone in his pocket. </p><p>He frowns and reaches his hand back to get it. She raises her eyebrows in question. He checks the phone, rolls his eyes, and mouths <em> Remus</em>. She doesn’t look surprised. </p><p>He slips out into the stairwell because he doesn’t want to interrupt her call. Once the door has shut, he answers, “No, I don’t forgive you.”</p><p>He can hear Remus’ eye roll. “No need for dramatics,” he patronizes. “We’re going to Fortescue’s for dinner. Meet us there?”</p><p>L</p><p>“Haven’t you already eaten?” Lily asks. “How long has it been since you left?”</p><p>She can hear the smirk in Marlene’s voice. “Too busy with James to watch the clock?”</p><p>Lily blushes and is glad James is out of view. Just to be safe she turns towards the wall. She keeps the smile out of her voice, even if it creeps onto her face. “No. How much time has it been?” she repeats.</p><p>“Not long enough for us to get a table,” Marlene answers, but she doesn’t seem too broke up about it. “We had to make a reservation.”</p><p>J</p><p>“They take <em> reservations </em> at <em> Fortescue’s</em>?” James echoes incredulously. </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“That’s unheard of!” </p><p>“It was really busy when we went in to make it,” Remus says. “They may have some event going on.”</p><p>L</p><p>“If it was so busy how did you make a reservation for all of us?” Lily wonders.</p><p>“They had some room in the back,” Marlene says. Rather vaguely, Lily thinks, but she continues, “So you’ll come, then?”</p><p>“I assume Remus is asking James right now?”</p><p>“Observant, love.” </p><p>Snorting, Lily leans back against the wall, pins the phone between her ear and her shoulder, and crosses her arms. “Then it depends what James says.”</p><p>J</p><p>"If Lily wants to then yeah, sure,” he says. </p><p>“Alright,” Remus responds. “We’ll see you in fifteen? That’s when the reservation’s set. It’s under Potter.”</p><p>"Under Potter?" he repeats. "Why?"</p><p>“Well you’ll probably get there before us.”</p><p>"Oh, alright," he says. "Sounds good. See you—"</p><p>“Hey, wait,” Remus breaks in, “how is she? Was she angry?”</p><p>“No,” he says, trying to keep the smile from his voice. He doesn’t want them to know anything. Not yet. Not until he talks to Lily about it all. “No, everything’s fine.”</p><p>L</p><p>“Good,” Marlene says, but her voice has some distance from the phone. “I’d’ve killed him had he hurt you.”</p><p>“<em>Hurt </em> me? I don’t think he would have hurt anyone.”</p><p>“Not physically, prat.”</p><p>“Where are you?” Lily laughs. “Your voice keeps cutting in and out. Where are you going?”</p><p>“Oh,” she says, much louder and breathier now that her mouth is against the speaker, “sorry about that, love. We’re walking to the restaurant.”</p><p>James knocks softly, eyebrows raised to ask if he can enter. Lily nods and he slips through the door.</p><p>“That’s alright,” Lily tells Marlene, and if she’d been any more present she would’ve cared to be confused that they were walking to a restaurant that was a forty-five minute walk away.</p><p>But James was smiling at her and his hair was a disaster and his hoodie strings were uneven and—</p><p>Well, suffice it to say, her attentions were otherwise occupied. </p><p>“I’ll see you soon, then?” </p><p>"Bye, darling," Marlene trills.</p><p>Lily drops the phone back in her pocket. </p><p>She looks up in time to see him lean a shoulder on the wall. He‘s by the door. She steps towards him.</p><p>“Hi,” she greets. </p><p>J</p><p>Her eyes sparkle. "Hi," he returns, biting his lip to contain a grin.</p><p>He’s not the <em> ultimate </em>sap, after all. </p><p>If he thinks he can hear his heart beating and if he can’t keep the ecstatic glow from his face well, what difference does it make? He’d want to kiss her either way. </p><p>So maybe he <em> is </em>the ultimate sap. </p><p>He doesn’t care. </p><p>“Did you know Fortescue’s took reservations?” he wonders, trying to keep his gaze from her mouth. </p><p>Her forehead wrinkles. There’s humor in her voice when she confesses, “I was thinking the same thing. I was almost certain they didn't?”</p><p>“Strange,” he says softly. She smiles, glancing down.</p><p>L</p><p>She looks back up. The weight of his gaze brings heat to her cheeks. “D’you want to go?” she asks.</p><p>He puts his hands in his front pockets, still leaning against the wall. “Up to you.”</p><p>“We’d have to drive,” she says. She doesn’t know when they got this close. “It’s too far to walk.”</p><p>Their voices are quiet. “Good thing you have a car,” he says.</p><p>She takes a last step towards him so he has to look down at her. He’s really tall. Has she never noticed that? Really tall. Perfect height, really, because she’s not <em> short </em> by any means, and—</p><p>J</p><p>She’s really short. Has he never noticed that? </p><p>Not abnormally short, or awkwardly short, but short enough that he has to bend his neck to look at her and short enough that he could rest his chin on the top of her head without any problem.</p><p>She’s <em> never </em>seemed short before. </p><p>“You’re driving,” she says.</p><p>He snorts but his eyes don’t leave hers. “I’m not any better than you. I’ve hit a deer.”</p><p>“When you were 17,” she protests. </p><p>“That wasn’t that long ago.”</p><p>She blinks innocently. “Were you sober?”</p><p>“It was six in the morning.”</p><p>“So no.”</p><p>He presses his lips together to keep from laughing. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”</p><p>L</p><p>His breath is hot on her face. </p><p>Her heart hammers steadily. “Where were you going? School?”</p><p>"Mmhmm." She stills as he lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then he leans down to push his lips gently against her temple. </p><p>Heat floods her cheeks. “Mine’s still worse,” she decides softly. She reaches out to fiddle with the strings on his hoodie. </p><p>He pulls back a breath. “I was 17 and <em> sober</em>,” he argues. “Which means I was either unusually unlucky or unusually stupid.”</p><p>“The latter’s not unusual,” she says. He tilts his chin to glance down at her hands and she realizes she’s forgotten that they’re there. “Uneven,” she claims when he looks back up. She blushes. “Pet peeve.”</p><p>"Ah," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against hers. "Won't happen again."</p><p>His lips hover over hers. “Okay,” she breathes. </p><p>J</p><p>His heart beats so fast he’s surprised it hasn’t run away. There’s no trace of hesitation from her this time—one hand snakes around his back, the other filters through his hair. Her lips are chapped and salty and <em> how </em> has he possibly gone his entire life without this feeling? Without <em> her</em>? </p><p>He’s not sure how much time passes before he grins against her mouth, leans back abruptly, snatches her hand from his chest, and turns toward the door. </p><p>“Wh—what?” she sputters, slumping against the wall where he’d abandoned her.</p><p><em> She’d </em> answered the phone call. This was revenge.</p><p>(Every part of him screamed in confusion, but, somehow, his mind won out. Getting an edge on Lily Evans was almost impossible, after all. A once in a decade opportunity. This was his only chance.)</p><p>“We can’t be late, love.”</p><p>She leans back in place to resist moving but he tugs her forward so she stumbles after him. She groans. “You’ve never cared to be punctual before.”</p><p>“It’s <em> Fortescue’s</em>,” he grins. He pushes through the door and holds it open for her. “We have <em> reservations</em>.”</p><p>She wrinkles her nose, running her hands over her hair to settle it. “That doesn’t sound right,” she says. “During the summer it’s an ice cream parlor. Ice cream parlors don’t take <em> reservations</em>.”</p><p>They start down the stairs, hands clasped tightly. “Well during the winter it’s a restaurant. A very popular restaurant, apparently.”</p><p>“They serve soup and hot chocolate. That’s literally it.”</p><p>“It makes sense. Warm liquid in winter. Cold liquid in summer.”</p><p>“Ice cream is <em> not </em>liquid,” she says, appalled. </p><p>“I had to say it,” he reasons, “for the parallelism.”</p><p>She laughs. “Aren’t you going to be cold? Without the coat that Remus asked you to bring?”</p><p>“You have no proof he did,” James says haughtily. “And soup is hot, so I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“The restaurant is cold,” she argues. “They treat it like it’s summer all year long.”</p><p>“Except they have soup and hot chocolate.”</p><p>She purses her lips in thought. “I think they have those in the summer too, actually.”</p><p>He glances at her, smiling, but she’s looking at the door in front of them. He opens it and they exit the building. “See? Not cold.” </p><p>If his gaze lingers a little too long to be casual, there’s no one to berate him for it. </p><p>Even if there was, she’s <em> beautiful</em>. The chill brings a flush to her face and brightens her eyes and he can’t resist.</p><p>L</p><p>“Not cold?” She whips her head towards him. “It’s bloody <em> freezing</em>!”</p><p>“Does your car have a heater?”</p><p>“Only the driver’s seat,” she lies.</p><p>“Good thing I’m not cold,” he says smugly. Knowingly. “I’m not driving, Evans.”</p><p>“We already decided you were.”</p><p>“We didn’t, actually. You have to.”</p><p>She leans her head on his shoulder as they walk. Their hands swing gently between them. Her heart pounds from the cold and his presence and the thought of driving.  “I don’t want to.”</p><p>“The sooner you start, the less paralyzing it will be.”</p><p>She turns her nose into his hoodie. It’s warm against her skin. </p><p>J</p><p>It <em> is </em> cold outside (he can admit this in his thoughts, if never out loud), but his shoulder is warm where she’s set her cheek.</p><p>“You’re a good driver, Lil,” he says, and he’s being honest. “You lasted <em> four years </em> without hitting anything. That’s impressive.”</p><p>“How long did you last before you hit the deer?” </p><p>“Don’t change the subject,” he chides, to avoid the subject. </p><p>She turns her head to look straight again. She sighs. </p><p>“It’s exposure therapy. It’s good for you.”</p><p>She sighs more dramatically. </p><p>“Is that a yes?”</p><p>“It’s a farewell, actually, because I’m going to kill us both.”</p><p>He kisses the top of her head. “You’ll be fine,” he promises.</p><p>L</p><p>They <em> are </em> fine. She drives more attentively than she ever has, despite the tempting source of distraction sitting in her passenger seat. He’s reassuring and encouraging and, since she doesn’t trust herself to focus with the radio on, he hums a song under his breath; he knows she hates driving in silence </p><p>They talk nearly the whole time, only pausing when she enters a roundabout or has to stop particularly quickly. She pleads incessantly to let her help with the payments when she’s saved up money in a few months but his denials are flat and obstinate. When she pulls into the parking lot her heart pounds so frantically that she’s sure it will explode, but she parks successfully and can’t contain her smile. He gets out claiming he’ll “check how she’s done.” Then he opens her door and grins at her. </p><p>“I’m proud of you,” he says, and she’s proud of herself, too. </p><p>They enter the restaurant and it <em> is </em>cold, like she knew it would be. She smirks at him and he rolls his eyes. An abstracted hostess chatters them to a booth at the back of the room. It’s empty.</p><p>In fact...now that she’s paying attention, the whole <em> restaurant </em>is empty. It’s completely quiet.</p><p>J</p><p>There’s no one here. Not just at the table. Like...anywhere.</p><p>He glances at Lily, frowning. She looks confused, too, and shrugs. He has opened his mouth to ask the loquacious woman if their mates had been there when his eyes snag on a patch of beige on the booth’s bench.</p><p>“Thank you,” James says to the hostess. Gaily, she tells them their waiter will be with them soon. Then she skips away. </p><p>When she’s left he reaches down to the bench.</p><p>L</p><p>Lily follows his movements to a light brown overcoat. She cocks her head. “Is that yours?” </p><p>“Yeah,” he says, scratching his cheek absently. A paper flits to the floor from the bottom of the coat. He doesn’t notice at first, so she leans down to pick it up. </p><p>On it is written, </p><p>
  <em> J &amp; L, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You've won Marley a bet. She wanted me to thank you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -R </em>
</p><p>Lily blinks. </p><p>Then she laughs. </p><p>His eyes flick up. “What?” he asks, smiling bemusedly. </p><p>Still laughing, she shakes her head. She slips into the booth. “Sit down,” she instructs him. “We’ve been played.”</p><p>He does. She hands him the note and, after reading it, he snorts and says, “I told you Remus was a manipulative git.”</p><p>“Oh, no,” she waves him off. “This was all Marlene.”</p><p>He sets the note on the table, leans back against the booth, and smiles crookedly. Her heart jumps. “We should have known,” he says. </p><p>“We should’ve. When they made a <em> reservation</em>.”</p><p>“Such a lie,” he laughs. “We’re too trusting.”</p><p>“We <em> were </em>a bit preoccupied,” she reasons.</p><p>“True,” he grins, eyes glinting happily. “Besides,” he says, “I can think of worse things to do on a Saturday night.”</p><p>She blushes because he’s smiling at her like <em> that</em>. </p><p>Then she smiles, because he’s perfect and beautiful and <em> handsome </em> and now she can kiss him whenever she wants. </p><p>“Yeah,” she agrees. “I could hit you with my car.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I loveee Jily. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think:)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>